


Golden Night

by Nevermore_red



Series: Golden Knights [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Baby making, F/M, Gardens, King Stannis, Lemons and Their Many Uses, Married Sex, Missing Scene, Older Man/Younger Woman, Outdoor Sex, Queen Sansa, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7905103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore_red/pseuds/Nevermore_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The missing scene from No Golden Knight. Outdoor sexy times in the garden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Night

It had taken years, years and a lot of emotional rebuilding, but Sansa eventually came to love the gardens of the Red Keep. They weren't very similar to what they had been when she was a young girl, walking the grounds with fear in her veins and the thought of being under careful watch in the forefront of her mind. After the wars, and then Annalisa's birth, Sansa and Shireen had overseen the remodeling of the garden. It was known that if she wasn't needed with the counsel or her children, the Queen could be found wandering about the gardens, taking in the sun and the flowers. Stannis knew if he wanted to see or speak with her he only had to search amongst the freesias and peonies, as those were her favorite.

Occasionally, she would sneak down at night. Stannis disapproved, and regularly scolded her for such foolish and dangerous behavior. A Lady, the Queen no less, should not be walking about the grounds at night by herself. Usually Sansa was a wonderful wife, dutiful and sweet. Over the years there was but few things he could complain about. She had proven to be a Queen in her own right, with a mind for politics and the innate gentleness and beauty that had the courtiers all but tripping over themselves to do as she wished. Regretfully, he was often one of those tripping. Although he never did so in public, likely because Sansa never put him in that situation. She would never compromise his authority as King in front of his subjects.

In this, though, Sansa steadfastly refused to abide by his rules. A part of him understood. She had met horrible fates within these walls. She had been beaten, degraded, mocked, and threatened. She had lived as a pawn and as a prisoner at the hands of a malicious little bastard that enjoyed nothing more than seeing her cry. There were times, even after all these years, that the memories overtook her and she felt the urge to flee what had once been her cage. She never went far, just to the gardens, and always returned once she had calmed herself. This night, Stannis had woken to an empty bed shortly after he'd joined her. It was after Annalisa's birth that they started sharing a bedchamber at all times. Stannis wasn't certain whose idea it had been. All he knew was one night after they'd been given leave to resume their marital duties, Sansa had come to him and had never left. He preferred it that way, in truth. He found he slept better with the warmth of her body next to his. And that irritating little sting every time she had left his bed before never came again.

Sitting up, Stannis rubbed a hand over his face and stifled a yawn. The first few times he had woken to her missing, he had panicked and had damn near every one of his Kingsguard up and ready to look for her when she simply walked back into their chambers as if nothing unusual had happened. He didn't sound the alarm tonight. He simply groused with irritation and pulled his tunic and boots back on. Tucking in his tunic as he left his chambers, he glared at the half asleep guard at the door.

"Your Grace." he snapped to attention, eyes blinking rapidly. "Is all well?" he asked, a hand going to his sword. Stannis didn't answer him, just gave him a withering scowl and headed down the stairs to go retrieve his wife. He couldn't really blame the guard. Sansa could be as silent as a ghost when she needed to be. Even after all these years, Sansa could take him unawares although his ears had become better attuned to the subtle changes of the air around him when she came near.

Thankful that it was warm out, Stannis started his search for his wife and found her standing under one of the lemon trees she'd insisted be planted. As the moon was full, she was easy to spot and nearly took his breath away. She'd always been a beauty. That much he'd always been aware of. Over the years of her being his wife and Queen, he'd come to realize she was far more than just a comely woman. She was fierce in a quiet, controlled way, yet she was kind and gentle. Maybe it was the children he had given her, but over the years, it seemed she had come to care for him, so much so that he believed her when she said she loved him. He had gone into this marriage with full knowledge it was nothing more than a political tactic. She was the key to the North, and as King, Stannis needed to reunite his legions. Marrying her was the simplest solution to that. He had never considered he would actually find happiness in the union. But she'd managed to weave and seep into his veins, muddling his thoughts and forcing him to care. The first time he felt his austere and cold façade crumbling towards her was when she had taken Shireen under her wing and helped his fading daughter thrive and smile. It had happened again and again over the years. Most notably when she announced she was with child the first time. And then again, more so, when she had lost that child. Stannis was war hardened. He had seen death, caused death, never reveling in it but sought it all the same. Never once had he been afraid of it. Not until his sweet wife stood up from breaking her fast one morning and a torrent of blood flowed from between her legs and wet her skirts. Stannis didn't like to think of that day. He had been able to keep his calm in check, just barely, and sent for the maesters while he scooped up his crying, bleeding, sickly pale wife and carried her swiftly towards her bedchamber. It was quiet possibly the hardest thing he had ever done when he had to pry her hand from around his as she screamed for him to stay and save their child. He'd left her despite her desperate pleas for him not to and closed himself off in his solar. It was the closest he'd ever come to crying and the first time he'd considered praying to one of the gods his wife often prayed to. He had thought to ask them to save his wife, to spare her life and let him have her back so they could continue to build their lives together. He hadn't even spared a thought for the unborn child until Brienne had came to tell him Sansa would be alright but the baby was gone. It struck him then that he cared more for Sansa than he cared about having an heir. That had been a hard revelation to wrap his mind around. He still often had a hard time wrapping his mind around it.

"Could your appetite for lemons not wait until a more decent hour, my Queen?" he asked her, coming to stand a few steps behind her. Sansa didn't jump or startle as if she'd known he was there before he spoke.

"I just needed some air, Your Grace." she turned to him with a smile and he noticed she hadn't done up the laces of her gown quite right. They weren't tight enough and it had the sleeves slipping off her shoulders as she moved. She'd also forgone a shift and when she knelt to pick up a fallen lemon, he could see her breasts quite clearly.

Grinding his teeth together he willed his cock to behave. Sansa had come out here because she was reliving old memories and needed an escape, not because she wanted her husband to come and ravish her outside of doors.

"You've gotten your air." he rasped. "Let us retire back to bed."

Sansa hummed, rolling the lemon around her slender fingers and Stannis couldn't help but think of her dexterous fingers manipulating a part of his anatomy that resembled the shape of the lemon in her hand. He cleared his throat, endeavoring not to shift like an anxious green boy.

"Come." he tried for an authoritative voice but missed the mark. "You have an early morning on the marrow with the twins needing to be in the training yard for lessons. And Roderick will be up with the sun as usual."

"Like his father." she smiled at him, tossing the lemon back towards the trunk of the tree. Her hair was unbound and the night breeze caught the locks and blew them around her face as she walked towards him, all hip and sway and graceful seduction. Stannis felt his body tightening as her smile shifted from sweet to something distinctly naughty. Her hands came up to flatten her palms against his chest and the warmth from her body encased him. Without thinking, he bent his head forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. She smelled of the milk and honey soap she had washed with, as well as the night air and flowers that surrounded them. He very nearly groaned when she wrapped her arms about his waist and pulled herself flush against him. With his boots and her lack of footwear, Stannis was half a head taller than her. Perfect height to turn his head to the side and rest his cheek atop her head.

Sansa had always been a well figured woman, even before having children. She took after her lady mother and the Tully side of the family with her red hair and blue eyes and Riverlander hips made for bearing children. After birthing four children, Sansa's figure hadsoftened some, her breasts becoming larger, her arse well rounded, and her stomach a gentle outward curve that was so soft and giving Stannis couldn't help the forward motion of his hips as his swelling cock pressed into that welcoming flesh. Sansa matched his action, arching into him as well and adding a side to side motion that succeeded in filling his cock out the rest of the way.

"We should return to the bedchamber." Stannis half heartedly suggested, holding his wife's body tighter to his own as he urged her head up so he could claim her lips. Sex with Sansa ever since given leave to resume it after Roderick's birth had been a tricky thing. Stannis didn't want any more children. Not that he didn't care for each of his children greatly, but the anxiety that came with Sansa carrying his child and then birthing it, knowing the risks and the rate at which women sometimes succumbed during the labor put a fear in him that rivaled that of any other. He could not and would not lose Sansa. Besides, he now had three sons. The throne was secure. There was no need for the risk any longer. And Stannis felt...old. Too old to father more children, especially now that Shireen herself was married and likely on her way to making Stannis a grandfather. Sansa argued that point. He was not old, she said, it was only that he had become a father at such a young age. Regardless, Stannis hadn't been finishing inside of her. It was difficult, remembering to leave the welcoming warmth of her body before he spilled. He'd come close to forgetting several times. Sansa had taken it upon herself to read about different ways to stop his seed from taking root. There were many different methods used around the world. Consumption of certain flowers, as in moon's tea, were prominent, but were only used after the fact. They were also often dangerous so Stannis forbade the use of them. She had eventually found literature about a bawdy house in Dorne where the working girls soaked sponges in some form of liquid and inserted it inside themselves before coitus. The sponge soaked up the sperm and prevented conception. Sansa had asked the maester about it, and he agreed that it seemed viable but went against the gods designs. If the King and Queen did not wish to have another child, they should simply stop sexual congress.

Stannis didn't believe in gods. He believed in keeping his wife safe. And he believed he would go stark raving mad if he couldn't have her any longer. Over the years sex with Sansa had become something other than a duty simply to produce an heir. So they had employed the use of the sponge, which Sansa soaked in lemon juice as the Dornish book said it would make his seed impotent.

There was no sponge out here. It was inside on the washstand, next to a decanter of lemon juice they now kept in the room at all times. It seemed so very far away when Sansa's hands moved behind him and hastily untucked his tunic, fingers digging under it to touch the bare skin of his back.

"Sansa." he admonished with a hiss of pleasure.

"Your Grace?" she said innocently, big blue eyes blinking up at him. There was some primal part of him that always found her coyness irresistible. Stannis took her mouth rather fiercely, invading her with his tongue, sucking her lips between his and nipping them until she was panting and moaning, her fingers clutching into his back tightly.

"You tease too much, my love." he growled against her mouth, wrapping arms around her waist and spinning her around to deposit her on the bench nearby.

"Or just enough, perhaps." she panted as he tore at the laces down her back, only enough that he could pull the sleeves of her dress off and bare her beautiful breasts. The second they were free, Stannis went to his knees on the grass before her and lowered his head to her chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking deeply.

It all happened rather quickly after that. Sansa moaned and writhed beneath him until she was yanking on his tunic. Without much thought he allowed her to remove the fabric as his own hands lifted her legs to drape on either side of the bench and reached beneath her skirt to yank down her smallclothes, dropping them onto his shirt in the grass.

"Yes, please, Stannis." Sansa lay back against the bench, her head hanging off the edge. It caused her back to arch upwards and Stannis thought maybe his heart would go out at the sight she presented. Her skirts hiked up around her hips, long legs exposed and spread wantonly, her pale breasts shaking with her rapid breathing. Her skin nearly glowed in the moonlight and Stannis straddled the bench between her legs and touched the perfection that was his lady wife. His Queen. She was wet for him already and Stannis could hardly coordinate his fingers to undo his breeches.

"Come here, Sansa." he grabbed her arm and pulled her upright so that she straddled his hips, his erection pressed alongside her waiting cunt. The bench was low enough that her feet easily touched the ground and she only had to lift herself up and then sit back down before he was embedded deeply inside of her welcoming heat.

"Fuck." he muttered under his breath, leaning back to brace a hand behind him on the stone bench. The other wrapped around Sansa's lower back, fingers digging into the flesh of her arse as he helped her find a pace that pleased them both. She rocked against him, rubbing herself on him in a way that would bring about her pleasure while lifting herself up and down on him. Stannis felt his jaw unhinge from it's usual iron tension and hang open as he watched her take him. Her face flushed and eyes holding his. Lips swollen from his kisses. Breasts swaying with her movements. Skin alight with a flush and the light of the moon. She was a goddess in that moment. The only one Stannis was ever willing to succumb to and worship. When she started to peak, Stannis removed his hand from her arse to cover her mouth so she didn't alert anyone to what they were doing. Not that he cared in the least at that moment if they were found. His world had diminished to her pulsing cunt and the burning hot pleasure that raced down his spine. Still, he didn't want Sansa seen this way by anyone but himself.

When Stannis came, it was without a single thought towards sponges or lemon juice as his seed shot deeply inside of his wife. Knowing her and her fertility, it would quicken and there would be another child. Another nine moons of constant worry and that horrible, cold fear that would overtake him when her time came to labor.

Sansa slumped against him, her hands caressing his chest and arms as he wrapped them around her. She kissed his temple and then his mouth. Stannis quickly took over the kiss, thanking her with his lips and tongue, telling her what he could never find the words to tell her with his body instead. She would be perfectly fine, a small part of Stannis knew. Sansa never had any trouble with the other children, not even the twins. She would keep to Stannis' demands and not leave him in the birthing chamber. She would live and give life to another Baratheon child, boy or girl it mattered not. Just as she had four times previous.

Just as she had breathed life into a cold, bitter shell that was the man she had married all those years ago and given him something to live for other than the cold, heavy weight of the crown he wore.

**Author's Note:**

> The lemon juice soaked sponge was actually a thing, as was sponges soaked in various different liquids. It was actually the preferred method of birth control in ancient Jewish communities. The sponge acts as a barrier to the cervix and citric acid is said to have spermicidal properties. Even Casanova was said to insert the rind of half a lemon into his lovers. Just a little historical birth control trivia you didn't know you needed until now ;) There was also a lemon juice douche, but that sounds awful. Or more awful I should say.


End file.
